Re-written date: 7 / 13 / 2025
. . . . . . . . . . .
Chapter 47: The Living Dead
"A seasoned adventurer with rich experience... preferably solitary, maybe even a little off personality-wise?"
Hearing Edward's criteria, Eliza fell silent, thinking carefully.
In the North, finding a veteran adventurer wasn't difficult—far from it. Just among Eliza's former teammates back in her own adventuring days, any one of them could easily fill the role. Their battle experiences were enough to write several books' worth of content.
But when Edward added the condition of being solitary, the candidate pool shrank dramatically.
Adventurers typically operated in teams. Lone wolves were rare, and even rarer were those who maintained that isolation long enough to become seasoned veterans. If someone still turned out socially reclusive despite the team-centric nature of adventuring... well, that was downright bizarre.
So even Eliza, Northern Territory Adventurer's Guild Master, found herself stumped. After a long pause, she finally said, "Actually… I think I do know someone. If anyone fits your criteria, it's him. But…"
"But?"
Edward raised an eyebrow. It wasn't often Eliza sounded hesitant.
"It's just… his personality really is something else. Even among the oddballs in the North, he's especially strange," she said with a complicated look.
Now Edward was intrigued. If someone was eccentric enough to make Eliza pause, he had to be worth meeting.
"I'll send you his location and contact spell," Eliza said, already knowing she couldn't stop Edward once he was interested. "You'll see for yourself."
. . . . . . . .
Around noon, Edward arrived at a small wooden house standing alone in the middle of a plain outside Winterhold. According to Eliza, this was the residence of the mysterious adventurer who might be perfect for the Goblin Slayer role.
Truth be told, anyone living outside a city or village in the North had to be borderline suicidal. The territory was crawling with monsters, and even well-guarded villages were at constant risk of being overrun. For someone to build a cabin out in the open? It was either insanity—or something more.
But as Edward got closer, his doubts vanished.
The perimeter was lined with cleverly disguised traps and magical alarms. Even he, a seasoned mage, had to squint to detect them. The setups were functional, not ornamental—meant to work, not impress. If anything, it proved the owner was not only knowledgeable about monsters but also obsessively cautious.
Smiling faintly, Edward weaved through the traps using his arcane sight and arrived at the front door. He knocked politely.
A few moments passed.
Then—shing!
A thin, cold blade slipped out through the slightly opened door, aimed precisely at Edward's throat.
He didn't flinch. Still, the quickness of the response took him by surprise.
"Easy there. I'm here on Guild Master Eliza's recommendation," Edward said calmly, keeping his voice nonthreatening. "Name's Edward Durin—a mage and a man who's quite interested in you."
The blade paused mid-air.
A long silence followed. Then, slowly, the door opened.
The inside of the cabin was... sparse.
The space was designed for function, not comfort. Everything was arranged with movement and exit efficiency in mind. And there was a strange, almost flowery scent in the air—subtle, but noticeable. If not for the heavy sense of vigilance in the atmosphere, one might've mistaken it for a woman's room.
But none of that held Edward's attention.
No, what caught his eye was the person sitting in the center of the living room.
The man wore a cloak and a face-concealing mask, revealing nothing of his true appearance. Still, based on his build and voice, Edward estimated he was a young man—perhaps not yet thirty.
"What do you want, mage?" the man asked, voice low and raspy. It was the kind of tone shaped by long days of silence and solitude.
And yet—something told Edward that this cabin wasn't occupied by just one person...
Yes, it wasn't just him.
Inside the room were four or five children of various ages, the youngest looking around five or six, and the oldest perhaps in their mid-teens. Both boys and girls were huddled behind the man, some timidly hiding behind his cloak while others peeked out with wary eyes, clearly unsure of who Edward was or why he'd come.
Recalling Eliza's warning, Edward quickly spoke. "Saeki, Silver-ranked adventurer. That's you, right?"
"Yes. What do you want?"
As the man answered, Edward caught a glimpse of something through the opening in his cloak—and froze, blinking in surprise.
"You're... undead?"
Indeed. What he saw wasn't skin or pores. Beneath the cloak, there were visible veins and exposed, preserved muscle—evidence this man was no longer entirely human.
Saeki.
The one Eliza had recommended... wasn't just eccentric—he wasn't even alive.
Seeing the reaction on Edward's face, the man tensed, wariness sharpening in his voice. "Don't tell me Eliza sent you, but didn't tell you what I am?"
"She said you were... special," Edward replied, still surprised. "But I didn't expect this."
After a moment's hesitation, he took out the small emblem Eliza had given him—the one meant to identify him as a trusted party. Originally, he'd planned to test Saeki himself, but under the circumstances, it was clear that step would be unnecessary.
Saeki took the emblem, inspected it carefully, then gave a small nod. "Fine. If Eliza vouched for you, I'll explain."
Slowly, he removed his face covering.
What was revealed beneath was no longer the face of a human being. It lacked life, pallor, and warmth—flesh more preserved than alive.
"I'm not human anymore. Or... I was once," Saeki began, his voice steady despite the grim subject. "It happened during a labyrinth expedition years ago. We triggered a curse left by a lich. My body died instantly, completely disintegrated. But for some reason—maybe sheer luck—my soul latched onto a nearby zombie. I stayed alive. Sort of. This is what I became."
Edward listened quietly.
"I couldn't return to normal life after that," Saeki continued. "There was no way to go back home—not looking like this. But I did survive. And during that expedition, a few of my comrades didn't make it back. These kids you see here… they're their children. Orphans. So I've been raising them, here, far from town, where my presence won't cause problems."
It was a heavy story. And Edward's expression grew more serious as he absorbed the weight of it.
This wasn't just an undead. This was something rarer.
A living dead.
A soul bound to a body that should no longer function. A consciousness unconsumed by bloodlust. Something stuck between life and death, and yet... very much alive.
"I see," Edward murmured, eyes narrowing slightly. "But from what I can sense… your power hasn't weakened. If anything, it's gotten stronger."
Saeki seemed slightly startled but didn't deny it.
"Yes," he said with a sigh. "This body—this zombie—has no natural limits. I was never that talented before, but now… I've reached the fourth tier. I'm a Sword Soul-level warrior."
He paused, then added bitterly, "But even so, who'd want a teammate like me? I'd rather raise these children than go adventuring again. That life… it's not for me anymore."
As he spoke, Saeki gently ran a hand over one of the younger children's heads, his expression softening. Despite everything, he looked... content.
Like a man who'd found peace in a place no one would expect.
But Edward saw something else.
That worn longsword at Saeki's waist—sharpened so many times the metal was nearly silver from wear.
The traps outside—designed with precise, almost obsessive efficiency.
These weren't the habits of someone who'd left the adventuring life behind.
They were the signs of someone who'd never been able to let it go.
Edward's eyes narrowed.
Then, slowly, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small pouch filled with glinting gold.
"Relax, Adventurer Saeki," he said calmly, weighing the pouch in one hand. "I'm not here to recruit you for a dungeon raid. I'm here to talk business."